You're the Boyfriend
by Kitty.M.Smith
Summary: "I have a solution." "Thank goodness," said Sherlock, not comprehending the items she held. "It involves fire." "Absolutely not," he said, comprehending the items she held.


Sherlock was busy texting and walking circles in Molly's living room while she did paperwork at the kitchen island. They'd both been busy and not seen each other in a few weeks-Sherlock with a case, and Molly too busy with work for once to assist, which resulted in both of them feeling rather melancholy. They still had work to do, but they'd just managed to find a night where Sherlock probably wouldn't get targeted by someone with a gun and Molly had a free evening, so they'd decided to get started early as possible by working in the same area. Sherlock was always surprised how much he desired Molly's company, though it wasn't completely illogical-he had admitted he was human, after all. A desire for contact was, strangely, normal. Perhaps the real issue is he desired it more than John's sometimes and was rather worried he'd become jealous, much as John assured him he could spend "literally as much time as you want and maybe even more than that" with Molly and John wouldn't feel neglected in the least. Rather kind of him, Sherlock thought.

Molly never seemed to mind his company, and Molly was easy to read so he was reasonably assured in this. Like when he started pacing in his shoes and stepped on her coffee table-nothing was an obstacle during pace texting-she made it rather obvious with just her face he should take his shoes off first. So, there he was stepping all over his girlfriend's furniture barefoot and flipping between texting four different contacts, researching carnivorous beetles and absolutely crushing everybody's grandmum at Words with Friends when he saw something out of the corner of his eye that stopped him in his tracks.

"Molly?"

"Yeah?"

"When…is the last time you cleaned round your ceilings?"

She looked up from her paperwork, brow knit. "What?"

"Your ceilings, when was the last time you cleaned them?"

"Uuuuuhhhh…I-"

"Never?"

"Never. They're too high. I mean, I have a stick I put a duster on every…uh. At some points in time. Why?"

"Seems you've got a nest."

Molly came over and Sherlock pointed to the corner. There was an obvious spider egg sac. "I-" the spider appeared from somewhere within the corner and Sherlock jumped.

"Oh Christ, it's a false widow."

Molly also looked disturbed. "Oh, god. I hate those. They're so creepy."

"I'm inclined to agree."

"What should we do?" She looked at him.

"What? Why are you looking at me- I don't know, it's your house. Chances are crushing it will release thousands of baby spiders into your home-"

"But you're the smart one!"

"I'm a detective, not an exterminator!" He crossed his arms. That damn spider, it was staring at him. Gave him the heebie-jeebies, simply no other word for it.

"Well-you're the boyfriend! You're supposed to squish things!"

He pointed. "Don't try and use gender norms to make me kill it."

She crossed her arms. "You're afraid of a spider?"

"I don't like them in the house, no. And I don't like those ones, especially. If you're so unafraid, you do it."

Molly huffed-she was sort of cute when she did that. Sherlock kept glancing between her and the spider, which seemed terribly likely to kill them at any moment. Venomous or not-poisonous? Oh, whatever. Molly disappeared into the hall and came back with hairspray and a lighter. "I have a solution."

"Thank goodness," said Sherlock, not comprehending the items she held.

"It involves fire."

"Absolutely not," he said, comprehending the items she held.

"Fire kills things."

"It doesn't vaporize them."

"It'll work," she said while pulling out a chair and climbing up. Oh god – was this how Molly felt when Sherlock did…anything? Slightly panicked, though curious as to the results? It…explained a lot. Before Sherlock could do anything Molly had gone and set the homemade flamethrower on the corner of her ceiling. The ceiling didn't catch fire, and the spider died rather quickly, falling to the floor in a tiny pile of shriveled flame. But the eggsac caught fire and, as Sherlock had feared, released a blanket of nearly microscopic baby spiders. Molly panicked, tried setting them on fire, then leaped into Sherlock's arms when they started falling on her, screeching.

Sherlock, screeching in kind,ran straight for the door and half tumbled out into the grass of Molly's tiny front yard. She picked up a rake and threw it at the door to close it, gasping. Sherlock held Molly tightly-after ensuring she was spider free-and inhaled deeply. "Told you."

"Shut up. Now I'll have to move."

I've got plenty of room. Wait, did he say that? Why didn't he? Oh, there were more pressing matters. "Dozens of them."

"Hundreds."

"I'm not killing them."

"Well, I'm certainly not!"

They paused and simultaneously chimed, "John."

* * *

It took him only a few moments to arrive, damp and cross, half-glaring at the couple curled up against a tree with the cat, who had also evacuated. "You two are serious?"

"I wouldn't have risked calling you from your bath otherwise," Sherlock said.

"You're serious," said John, ever long-suffering. "Jesus Christ. It's spiders."

"Yes, plural. Many. Tiny." Sherlock spread his arms wide for emphasis.

"They've probably spread by now."

Molly squealed, eyes wide. "Please don't say that."

John inhaled deeply. "Sherlock, you're buying me lunch."

"No I'm not, she's the one who set the fire."

"Really?"

"…Yeah." Molly grinned sheepishly.

"Alright. You're buying me lunch."

Molly sighed, punching Sherlock's arm, but neither complained as John went into the house and returned 20 minutes later. "Alright, they're all dead you milksops."

They let out small cheers and got up, Molly rushing in to finish evidently time sensitive paperwork. John smacked Sherlock's arm as he walked toward the gate. "Learn to kill spiders, you prat."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You're no better than her."

"One of you has to. You are the boyfriend."

Sherlock snorted, though felt himself smiling. "Well, I do suppose I am."


End file.
